This blog shares stories and photographs about outdoor travels in the Northwest.

Thursday, January 25, 2007

Kirkwood Ranch, Hells Canyon

Kirkwood Ranch, Parts 1-2(Part 1)My windshield wiperswhacked all the way fromWalla Walla to White Bird,Idaho. whackwhackwhack. And they left a blurredstreak right in front of myeyes. Drat. Should bereplaced.Perhaps later.The 17-mile road fromHighway 95 at White Birdover the saddle to PittsburgLanding oozed mud. When Iparked at the Upper Landing's Snake River RecreationTrail trailhead, mud plasteredthe sides and back of thetruck. It splotched my hands,pants and shirt as I openedthe tailgate for Sadie theDalmatian. She nosed about in the softrain. I slipped into a rainjacket and stretched the raincover over the backpack.When I bent to snap Sadie'spack on her, I had to let outthe two straps under herbelly. ``Say,'' I said and poked herwith a finger. ``Sadie's put ona few pounds.'' She drooped her tail. ``Well, no big deal,'' I saidand rubbed her ears. She wagged her tail andshook herself beneath thepack. It held her food forthree days, a fold-up bowl, acoat, four fleece boots for sorepaws, salve for scratches andrashes, bandage wrap, Q-Tipsand a PackTowl to dry herwith before she entered thetent. I lifted my pack from thetailgate. ``Hummpf,'' I gruntedand snapped the waistbelt. Ilocked the truck, picked upthe bamboo walking stickwith the rubber tip, and weset off walking in the rain. Snake River RecreationTrail (No. 102), follows theriver for about 30 miles toButler Bar, a couple of milespast Granite Creek and a fewmiles below Hells CanyonDam. Sadie and I once hiked the28 miles to Granite Creek.And back. We had fun, despite heat, ticks and heavypacks.This time, for our firstbackpack of the spring, wewould walk six miles toKirkwood Ranch, camp fortwo nights, explore, fly fishfor bass and hike back.We started at 12:24 p.m.that Sunday. Sadie struttedunder her load, but I wobbleda bit beneath my 45-poundsup the first steep, rocky andnarrow half-mile of trail.When the trail leveledsomewhat, however, the loadrode more easily. Then thedrizzle stopped, and I put myrain jacket in the pack.Heavy cloud cover cooledthe air, and we reached thecamping area near KirkwoodRanch at 3:17 p.m. I pitchedthe single-walled Eureka!Zeus Exo tent (for exoskeleton, because the polesare on the outside).I put on a sweater andwalked 400 yards to the museum and met the site's caretaker, Linda Mink.Coincidentally, one of herseven son's is CorrectionalSergeant Tanner Mink, whobegan work at the Washington State Penitentiary in 1997.He received Supervisor of theYear honors in March of thisyear. I filled my pocket-sizedwater bag from a hose at themuseum and hung it from alimb on a hackberry tree. I mixed Sadie's dinner inher bowl. She ate it in about27 seconds. I boiled water forhot chocolate and dehydratedpotatoes, opened a flat can ofHormel ham with my SwissArmy Knife, chopped it,cooked it in olive oil andmixed it into the mashed potatoes.Clouds swelled, but no rainfel. The air remained cool andcalm. I rigged the fly rod witha black leach nymph andpocketed my three-day Idahofishing permit that cost$18.50.Sadie followed me to theriver, below the line of hackberry trees. We jumped fromrock to rock along a bar, and Icast to the top of a riffle at adeep hole backed up against acliff. I hooked a bass on thefirst cast. In an hour I hooked andreleased about 20 fish, all inthe half-pound to three-quarter-pound range. They hithard. Some jumped from thewater. I held a couple of themby the lower lip and snappedphotos. They scooted awaywhen I let them go. Next we walked upstream,past the ranch, and fished ourway back to camp. I caughtmore fish, including two atthe boat landing. At dark I spread Sadie'scoat on the tent floor, and sheflopped. She got cold andwoke me later. I unzipped thetent door. Stars sparkled in acloudless May sky at midnight. The thermometer said40 degrees. I covered Sadiewith part of my sleeping bag. I expected Monday wouldbe bright and sunny._____(Part 2) Chukars on the canyon wallyakked it up, so Sadie theDalmatian and I skulked fromthe tent into a 39-degreemorning before sunrise. I tied my shoes at the picnictable and set up theWhisperLite stove. I toastedtwo bagels in the fry pan witholive oil and spread grapejelly onto each golden bitethat I chased with steaminghot chocolate. Yummm. I stuffed all the gear but thewater bag into the tent andleft the door open so critterscould enter without chewing ahole. Three deer grazed onthe hillside 100 yards away,and cougars, skunks, porcupines, and coyotes live in thearea. I've never seen a marmot,squirrel or gopher in the onetime hayfield, but they mustbe there. So I left the dooropen, and we went to explore.We walked three-quartersof a mile up Kirkwood Creek,past the pit houses dug in ashdeposited by the MountMazama eruption about 7,000years ago. Now it's a weedy knoll, andI wondered what it was likewhen the ash fell, apparentlymuch heavier than whenMount St. Helens blew. Hard to imagine. We found the Carter Mansion to be a mess. DickCarter, a moonshiner duringProhibition, built the verticallog home above the streamfor his bride in the 1920s. Ithad the first tongue-and-groove floor in the canyon. Carter escaped federal revenue agents for a considerable time by hiding his still ina cellar dug in the ash. Hewas eventually sent to prison,however, and his house wasused as a school for a time. Undergrowth now hides thehouse, with its empty windowframes and its floors coveredwith ceiling plaster. Linda Mink, a caretaker atKirkwood Ranch, said theForest Service lacks moneythe mansion's upkeep.Mink, however, is organizing a ``Friends of KirkwoodRanch'' group to raise moneyfor the site. T-shirts sales and otherfund-raising efforts could beaimed specifically forKirkwood projects, she said. By the time Sadie and Ireached camp again at 8:48a.m., the thermometer on thetoilet in the hayfield said 62degrees. I carried theCamelBak water bag to awooden flume, designed acentury ago to irrigate thehayfields and gardens. Ihooked the bag to a horseshoe nailed to the flume andpumped water with the Purfilter. Then we set off on a2.3-mile hike upriver toSuicide Point in bright sunshine. Along the way Isweated and took pictures offlowers and scenery. Weclimbed to the point, 400 feetabove the river, and rested.When we got back a bit afternoon, the thermometer on thetoilet registered 79 degrees. I worried that UV rayswould damage the nylon tentand considered taking it downand putting it up again aftersunset. Instead I quit worrying and ate two packages ofgranola with dehydratedstrawberries in powderedmilk. While Sadie licked the frypan/cereal bowl, I opened thecamera bag. Hum. No lens onone of the tiny cameras. Isearched the bag. I searchedmy pockets. Phooey. I'd dropped it onthe hike from Suicide Point.Of course it was on top of thepoint. Another two-plus hourhike. In the heat of the day.Poor Sadie. She lay underthe picnic table with hertongue hanging out. Heck, what would a lenscap cost? Two bucks? Maybe.But I couldn't forget it.``Come on, Sadie. Let's go,''I said. She stretched and plodded after me. At the museum, Linda Minksaid Sadie could stay withher. But she would never dothat, I said, and we went. Forty-seven minutes later,as we started climbing up toSuicide Point, the lens layright in the middle of the trail. It took forever to get backto Kirkwood Creek. Hot andtired Sadie waded among yellow buttercups and into theirrigation flume. I leaned onmy walking stick and waited. ``Take your time,'' I said. The thermometer on thetoilet reported 84 degrees. Mywatch said 2:08 p.m. I fed Sadie early and sat atthe wood table in the shadefor awhile before I limped tothe river with the fly rod.Sadie stood beside me inankle-deep water as I workedout a cast. I perked up a bitwhen I hooked the first bass.But after I released the seventh or eight one, I said,``Let's go back.''Sadie went into the tent,and I didn't even dry her first.I toted the mattress and theclothes-bag pillow to the picnic table and lay on my back.I opened my mystery novelbut dozed before turning apage.Nearly two hours later andstill logy, I pondered frying abass for dinner. But I didn'twant to carry food out thenext day, so I ate the tuna fishwith hashbrowns and a bagel. The next morning I dispatched the last bagels. Rainpattered as I packed and aswe hiked out, but we stoppedtwice to fish. I caught nothingeither time. The road over the saddlehad dried, and I paused twiceto photograph evening primroses. I stopped in Grangerand sprayed mud off the truckand felt better for it.________The 17-mile road from Highway 395to Pittsburg Landing Road is narrow,steep and unpaved. Once a popularNative American village site,Pittsburg Landing is now popular forriver access and camping.Kirkwood Historical Ranch is theformer home of Idaho's GovernorLen Jordan, the site of GraceJordan's book ``Home below HellsCanyon,'' the Carter Mansion, andarchaeological evidence of humanhabitation dating back 7100 years.Accessible by boat or trail, it isstaffed by volunteers throughout theyear. The site features a theKirkwood Historical Museum.

About Me

Now retired, I once spent several hours each week, sometimes several days, traveling with Darlene and Nora the Schnauzer (since Sadie the Dalmatian died) in the outdoors of the Pacific Northwest, often with a fly rod and/or a backpack and always with a camera, to research columns for the Walla Walla Union-Bulletin . See photos at www.tripper.smugmug.com.